Sometimes I’m lost in thought
Whisked away to darkness
And imaginings
Fraught and perilous,
But always I find my way back
To the sun, my heart
And the light of love inside.
–
And so
I too and fro,
Losing myself
And then re-finding
What cannot be lost,
Ever the sun, my heart
Ever is it shining.
In the this singular world,
This individual,
Personal reality
In which I am centre
And no other exists
But as myriad watching faces,
(Equally individual
And no less personal,
Yet experienced by me
As face, not world),
I see my thoughts
Only my thoughts,
And you see yours,
Only yours.
And we will never know each other,
For you,
As I
Are master artist,
Applying a veneer
To all
Upon which our thoughts alight.
And we’ll never really meet
Or experience
The truth
Of our separate realities,
For all I see is me
And all you see is yours,
Except in the richness
And depth of our being
Where we are undivided,
Sharing wholly
The abundance of love.
In the feeling
All that was future
And past
Is gathered
To the beautiful, unfolding now.
You,
Withdrawn from scattered self
With eyes only for the world
And the things in it,
Are returned inward
To yourself,
Finding that you are whole
As you have always been,
And full of love
For every wrong turn
That lead you to the truth.
Never were you parted
Never were you alone
Never were you distant
From wisdom’s place
And the heart song
Singing
Life’s simple authenticity.
You are the outpouring of self,
Fresh and new and crisp
To the world
And joyous
In the living of it.
Love sees you
Dwelling shameful,
Harbouring secret thoughts
Too ugly to own,
And puts its hand upon your shoulder,
Turns your face
Towards the sun
And whispers
‘You are not alone in this
For I hold all in warmth,
And all your shameful thought
Is but a heavy weight
You need not lug about
Nor even believe.
Come out
From the shadow of your thinking,
There is no weight in love
Only fullness
Of the heart absolved
And the infinite wealth
Of joyous being.’
You need not love the self
For the self loves you.
Relax, forget about the work
Of loving, it’s not yours to do,
For the self loves
Your every limitation.
Stop attempting the impossible:
You cannot conjure love
Through will and the toil of thinking,
Just chill
For you are loved already,
Wholly and infinitely,
No part of you left out.
See you are bathed in love,
See that, only see,
Then sit back
And do absolutely nothing.
I walk barefoot
Upon your back
Breathing the fresh, clean air
Cleansed by the trees,
Their breath in mine
As mine is in theirs.
And my eyes gaze upon all your wonder,
My eyes which are yours,
My seeing which is your sight.
To think I once walked separate,
High in thought
And fear
And confusion,
Yet still my bare feet
Touched the ground,
And what the soil bore
I ate, digested, made into myself,
Unyieldingly gripping
The fiction of separation,
Believing illusion
Despite the proof of my body.
The wind is in me
And I am the wind.
I am the earth
Momentarily raised into flesh,
Borrowed from eternity.
I am the being and the seeing.
How could I have maintained
The belief that in all the universe,
Only we, as humans,
Dwell outside all that is?
Under soft February light
Where warming ethers
Carry earthy scents,
I remember my spring self
Among crocuses.
And yet again my heart is lifted
By the tide turn
Of day-length stretched,
Being motivated
To peep as a myriad
First shoots.
And yet again
The soft spell
Light upon my heart
Shimmers hazy
As sunbeams diffuse
In the mellow heavens,
And I can’t quite tell
If this space myself
Is me or the world
Or just spring’s fluid
Billowing out from itself.
Always, and first-off, I reach for mind,
Spewing story forward
Or back in time.
Invariably Imaginative,
I dwell in the colourful imagery
Of that dull and flat land,
Wishing for more,
Ever, ever more.
Later, I speak the words: “I am”
And feel the colourful future
Withdraw from absent lands,
While the past retreats into me,
Coalesces where I be,
Ever and always myself.
And here, the colour is love
Where fictions are impotent
And the warm smile of being
Dissolves all but itself.
No one can obscure
The ever present sun
Or its infinite
Lovingness.
Only we can shroud ourselves
From ourselves,
In storms of ideas
And emotion’s maelstrom.
When the turbulence clears
Our hearts
Are the love
We were never parted from.
Not one of us
Upon the earth
Is anything less
Than the whole sun
Shining in being,
Illuminated in the endless wealth
Emerging from the formless realm,
The nothing and the nameless,
Our infinite self
Ever at our finger tips,
Infinitely Infinite and infinitely free.
–
It is only our crowded thoughts,
Straight-jacketing us rigid.
Gripping us to an idea
Of a drought-ridden self,
Stiff within our skin
And so hopelessly lonely,
That thinks us
Thought-severed from the Source,
And made bleak as a separate entity.
–
And yet, those thoughts separating
Are but tenacious thoughts,
Combined, conjoined, layered,
Believed, stiffened, judged
And felt solid enough to be real,
Each one hiding us from the truth:
–
That universal love
Is the absolute fundament of our nature:
The life force propelling,
Filling us up,
Upholding the fleeting entities
We call our selves,
Buoying us
Even when we deny we out buoyed.
–
Not one of us
Is anything less
Than the soul
That is all,
The one,
The only one,
The love emanating from Source
Becoming something,
Ever unfolding as the form-ful manifest.
distilledvoice 